We Are Dragons

Ember saw exactly what the vultures described.

She could not be concerned if Spike was pushing the limits of how far he could fly. All dragons, because of the weight of their scales, were slow and short-distance fliers. Even she could feel her wings tiring. But they found telltale signs of a dragon.

The vultures flew circles around them, quite literally, pointing out scorch marks where they encountered Rosebud, and where Hard-Snap was burned. They followed the trail from there. Snapped twigs and flattened bushes were the easiest signs to follow. At some points, it seemed Rosebud knew to cover her tracks, and her trail thinned, but the vultures seemed to know the secrets of staying on a creature’s path, squawking about imperceptible changes in the ground.

It gave Ember some hope that they would find her before the creatures did. Perhaps she escaped, and they were chasing her. That seemed the most likely, and possibly why they had abandoned their camp so hastily.

“Is that her?” Flare, the young yellow dragon, sped ahead of the rest. He was a remarkable flier for his age, barely older than Spike, and used his long tail as a rudder to make adjustments and hard turns easier.

He pointed a claw down to a clearing of bushes where a young dragon could be seen hiding behind the cover of a boulder. If she wasn’t Burnt’s daughter, Ember didn’t know who else it could be. She had his distinctive black scales, though not his teeth. She ordered Flare and Slipclaw to circle above and keep an eye out for any enemies while she and Spike descended to meet the young dragon.

“Rosebud?” Ember called out as they landed behind her. “Are you alright?” She wanted to ask her a dozen other questions, but her well-being came first.

Rosebud turned around and flashed her piercing green eyes at Ember, which softened immediately when she recognised her as the Dragonlord.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” the young dragon said. “Sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused, but at least this saves a trip back to the Citadel.”

“What are you talking about?”

Rosebud pointed out over the cliff, down to the sea. It was still some distance away, but from where they perched, the dragons could be at the rocky beaches within a few minutes of flight. Down on the waves, a vessel meandered on the breeze, slowly sailing further east.

It looked like an old airship from the Storm Army, not much different from the hundreds broken and smashed to build the Ash Citadel. However, the massive balloon which would normally lift the vessel was half-inflated, leaving the ship helplessly drifting on the water.

“I’ve been tracking our enemies on their ship,” Rosebud said. “I couldn’t return to the Citadel until I found out who attacked us and tried to kidnap me.”

“You escaped on your own?” Spike’s jaw gaped in awe.

Rosebud looked at him sadly, as if disappointed about something. “Not quite. I didn’t even get a good look at them. They covered my face with one of their cloaks the entire time they held me. I wish I could have breathed fire to escape, but they had chains ready to clamp my mouth shut.”

“We saw their camp, and their weapons,” Ember said. “There’s no shame in losing to an enemy who came prepared with numbers.”

“But it was on my watch that they struck the mines. I should have been more vigilant, I should have done something. Maybe if I had ordered my cohort to attack instead of defending the carts we wouldn’t have this problem now.”

“Well, we’re in it,” Ember said. “Can’t dwell on how we got here, only how to get out. After they bound you, how did you escape?”

“That is what I’m here to find out. I heard a voice, some creature who didn’t sound like the others, barking orders around the camp. He said that kidnapping me was a mistake and told them to leave immediately. As soon as they were gone, I smashed the chains against a rock until they snapped. I’ve been following them since.”

“Well, you can stop following them now. You have to go back to the Citadel. Your father is worried about you, and as long as you’re missing, rumours can spread that our colony is not safe. For the good of dragonkind, you have to go back.”

“What? No!” Rosebud protested. “This is my responsibility. I was in charge at the mines, I was the one who gave the orders to flee with the carts. I have to fix this.”

“I am the Dragonlord,” Ember growled. “All dragons are my responsibility. That makes this mine as well.”

“But I have a plan,” she insisted. “I’ll make them think the wrath of Djormunsormir has risen again.”

Young dragons, they were always so eager to prove themselves. She wondered if this was how her father felt when she made her bid for the Bloodstone Sceptre. Still, even if her determination was admirable, Ember doubted the five of them could do enough damage to compare to the legendary World Eater himself, a dragon so large the stories said he could wind around all of Equestria and swallow it whole.

It was an amusing thought, however. She decided it wouldn’t hurt to at least hear what the whelp had to say.

“They have weapons to take down a dragon from the sky, but what about from the sea? Nets and bolas can’t fly as easily through the water. I was planning to swim under their ship and burn a hole through the hull. It’s an airship, it’s not designed to withstand leaks like a normal vessel. With the rest of you here, we can pick off the survivors as they swim to shore.”

“A spear will still catch you,” Ember said, “and we’d be escalating the threat. Right now, we don’t know why they attacked us. It might be better if we talked things out.”

“And are you going to do that?” Rosebud questioned her. “Name any dragon who’s better with words than with flame.”

Ember made a simple gesture to Spike, beckoning him to come forward. “What do you say, think you can fly over there and talk to them? Maybe we’ll all go home happy and have no more attacks.”

Rosebud inspected him, from the scales on his dorsal crest to the tip of his tail. Her eyes narrowed before they widened, recognizing him. “My father mentioned you. You’re that pony-lover, aren’t you?”

Ember glared at Rosebud, but Spike simply laughed off her comment. “Yeah, I grew up with them. But I’m still a dragon, even if I don’t act like it, and I want what’s best for our people. If they’re willing to hear us out, then I’m your guy to do it.”

He puffed up his chest slightly, showing off his boost of confidence now that Ember put his skills at the helm. She was surprised he didn’t ask about the possibility of spears flying his way. It seemed he had entirely forgotten to be scared and was only focused on the task in front of him.

Of course, she’d go with him, and she was more than capable of protecting her own. Still, a little security never hurt. Ember signalled Slipclaw with a gesture of her claw, a simple series of waves that could give simple commands if a dragon was ever too far to hear her orders. In this case, the order was for Slipclaw to prioritise protecting Spike at any cost.

“If you think we can stop them that way, I suppose the result would be better than provoking more fighting,” Rosebud said. “Even if we’d win in the end. But I’m still swimming out to the ship. If your plan fails, I’m sinking their ship with or without you.”

Ember felt a tinge in her heart. Her Sceptre answered her worries, calling to her to use its power. She wanted to command Rosebud to leave and return to her father, but it didn’t seem right to punish the whelp when she spent so long tracking their enemies and coming up with a plan.

“In that case, take Flare with you. More fire and an extra pair of claws should help get the job done quicker.”

Ember immediately felt a wave of regret wash over her. She imagined the two young dragons getting speared and netted, and it formed a pit in her stomach. The only thing stopping her from turning on her word and sending them all back was her own confidence. Running from the enemy wasn’t befitting of a Dragonlord.

She ignored her worries and focused on Spike, who spread his wings wide, already prepared to take flight again. One thing at a time. For now, she told herself, it was time to play the peacemaker.

Ember was not surprised. Confused, maybe. She definitely had questions. But after what they had found at the camp, she definitely could not feel surprised. After the first volley of throwing spears fell short, and the second flew too high, Ember and Spike landed on the deck of the ship to see a dozen pairs of terrified eyes on the faces of pudgy hedgehogs.

The footsoldiers of the Storm King. Or at least their larger brethren were. A few of the massive hedgehogs the Storm King had reportedly used in his army crawled out from the lower deck, but the majority of the crew were the smaller kind. The stumpy white-and-grey creatures scurried around, circling them with tentative spears and nets.

Ember could see it now. If she just imagined them with a blanket over their heads, they matched the description perfectly. Though, their spiky hairs added a lot more size than they had.

“My name is Ember,” she announced to the cautious crew, half of whom already had their spears raised for a third attempt. “I am the Dragonlord and Governor of the Ash Citadel. And I have come to make peace. Who is in charge here?”

The doors to what looked like the captain’s quarters swung open. Out stepped four hedgehogs, each shouldering a corner of a palanquin draped on all sides with deep-blue velvet curtains. They tenderly lowered it to the deck in front of Ember and Spike, though it stopped just short of touching the floor. Instead, the palanquin rested, rather strenuously, on the backs of its hedgehogs.

Ember expected someone to step out from the curtains, but instead, a muffled voice spoke to her.

“We have heard of you, Dragonlord Ember, though we did not expect you would be here. We are the Storm Host, and we welcome you, for now.” The voice sounded female, but it was low and raspy enough that it could pass for a male as well.

“Have you come for your kind?” the Host continued. “She is not with us.”

Female or not, it didn’t really matter to Ember. It was irking not to know who she was speaking to, but what was being said was much more important. She wondered if she should tell them that they already found Rosebud. No reason to leave her gem hoard out in the open, as dragons commonly said. Some secrets were better left closely guarded.

But, Spike did not seem to agree. “She’s safe with us now,” he told the voice behind the palanquin. “But we came to make peace. Whatever reason you had for attacking the dragons, I’m sure it's just a big misunderstanding.”

There was a pause, and the voice spoke again. “Dragonlord, do you always let your whelps speak for you?”

Ember narrowed her eyes. Whelps. Like “filly” or “colt,” the word referred to a young dragon, either before their moulting or just after. But she never heard outsiders use the word. Dragons were dragons, as far as anyone else was concerned. The word was used almost exclusively by her kind. How much did this hedgehog know about dragons?

“I can speak for myself,” she finally answered, “when I need to. But my friend here has his own words to say. You should listen, for your own sake.”

A harsh whisper came from the Host, and then the hedgehogs began to turn the palanquin so the front was directly facing Spike. “I am listening.”

“You might not know this, but many years ago when Dragonlord Ember took the responsibility of leading all dragonkind, she promised to make our people less aggressive and to stop raiding others for food and gems. Since then, dragons have done a lot of good for the world. The volcanic ash in the Dragonlands makes excellent fertiliser, and now dragons are part of a worldwide trading network!”

Spike threw his claws up excitedly, though it seemed to only make a few hedgehogs level their spears. “It just goes to show,” he continued without noticing, “you can get a lot more from working together instead of fighting. So, what do you say? Wanna try it out?”

To Ember’s surprise, the voice laughed. It was a soft, gentle one, much like how a pony might laugh at their dog for performing a trick. With another hiss came another command, and the palanquin slowly turned back to face Ember.

“I think not,” the voice said. “You see, the Storm King promised us an empire for fighting by his side. Now the eccentric tyrant is dead, and all our scattered forces have retreated. We do not have the empire we were promised. So, we hoped to carve one out for ourselves, right where your Ash Citadel now resides, on top the remains of our old empire.”

“You mean the junkyard?” Spike replied. But no answer came from the Host. She was only interested in Ember, it seemed.

“No one was there,” Ember answered after a quiet lull. “You can’t possibly expect us to acknowledge that as your territory. It was an airship junkyard, a place for things to be thrown away.”

“But it was still the property of the Storm Empire. The ships were going to be recycled.”

“The desert’s pretty big, you know?” Ember folded her arms. “Why not just move somewhere else? There are a few hundred miles of nothing between the Citadel and Kludgetown. Live there, if you’re so desperate.”

“You of all dragons should know,” the voice replied, “that an empire must grow. The walls of your Citadel feel tight, do they not? The same would be for us. Our lands must grow, and we would inevitably return to this confrontation, fighting over who gets what land. No, far better be it to fight now than let your kingdom grow unchecked.”

“We started building the Citadel five years ago, back when your king died and your pathetic empire fell apart, I might add. Just a reminder. If you wanted to hit us while we’re weak, I think you missed your shot. You caught us off guard once, but don't expect it to work again.”

“There are many things in the world,” the voice said, and this time Ember swore she could hear the smirk behind the words. “You haven’t even begun to understand all of them.”

Ember snorted at the Storm Host. “Well, I know I could burn you and your ship straight down to the bottom of the sea,” she threatened. “You’re crazy if you think you can win against us. We’re dragons.”

Suddenly, the Host’s tone grew grave. “I do not need to win. You are not the only one with many friends, Dragonlord.” Just as the voice went silent, a massive burst of seawater flooded the top deck.

Ember heard Flare and Rosebud, roaring and yawping at the thing that had just dragged them out of the water. With the sun behind it, she had trouble making out exactly what it was. But that was quickly fixed once two wide wings unfurled in the sky, blocking all the sunlight over the ship. The leathery wings and light refracting off the surface of its scales were both too familiar. In an instant, Ember recognised what the voice had summoned to fight for her. A dragon.

It crashed down, throwing Rosebud and Flare across the deck. The dark blue dragon, his scales similar in colour to the curtains on the palanquin, rocked the ship with his enormous weight. Half the length and width of the ship itself, it was a miracle that all that scale and muscle didn’t sink them immediately.

Ember dug her claws into the deck, scrambling to right herself so she could take off. The dragon’s tail splashed around and sent more water flying up, but compared to him, she was quick and nimble. The blue dragon’s enormous wingspan made it hard to turn, and impossible to take off without sufficient clearance.

Ember dodged and weaved through the air, narrowly escaping snapped rigging and tumbling masts, before turning back on the ship and diving for the palanquin. The hedgehogs bearing it had already scattered the moment the dragon burst from the water, so there was no need to hold back. She loosed her flame onto its blue curtains and swallowed everything inside in a pleasing orange glow.

Yet there was no scream from the Storm Host. In fact, there was nothing at all inside the palanquin, save for a small pedestal with a shallow pool of liquid within it. Light shimmered off its surface, and through the reflections of Ember’s flame, the image of another dragon’s face projected above, into the smoke.

“I’m sure you have questions, Ember,” the Host mocked her through the window of light and smoke, “I can only hope this answers a few of them before you die. Brother! Finish this!”

The dark blue dragon roared and swiped his tail across the deck. Ember jumped, launching herself up to the air. Spike and the others were nowhere to be seen, though she noticed Slipclaw flying above, desperately scanning the water for them. The rush of battle flooded her senses, the fire and salt and, sadly, hedgehog blood scented the air so much she barely noticed the Bloodstone Sceptre calling out to her.

The stone at its top was searing red and hot to the touch as if it too wanted a piece of the action. And Ember saw no reason to deny it. She pulled the Sceptre from her satchel and aimed it at the blue dragon.

“Stop!” she cried out at him. “I am your Dragonlord and I command you to stop!”

The dragon twisted his neck towards her and froze his assault on the ship. And yet, he did not seem to calm down. His jaws snapped wide open at her as he prepared to unleash his flame.

Ember growled and waved the Sceptre at him again, asserting her will through it. She’d take a little fire if it meant silencing the mad dragon. But before she could get a word out, she found herself flung backwards into the front mast of the ship.

There was a burning sensation on her arm, but what had caused it, she couldn’t be sure. She swapped grips, holding the Bloodstone Sceptre in her other arm as she fought to get back up to her feet. Her wings were sore from cracking the thick wooden mast, but after one good stretch, they seemed fine to support her in the air.

Another burst came, this time arcing up through the air at Slipclaw. She saw what it was. What she thought was the dragon’s roar was actually a thunderclap, born from an arc of lighting where a spray fire should have been. She couldn’t believe her eyes. What kind of dragon breathed lightning?

She clutched her Sceptre. Her command didn’t even seem to faze the dragon. The glowing gemstone still called out to her, begging to be of use, but reluctantly, she put it away. She didn’t have answers yet. And they were facing a true adult dragon, larger by far than even Skullfang.

“Slipclaw!” Ember cried out, taking flight as quickly as she could without tearing apart her already bruised wings. “We came for Rosebud. If you find her before I do, take her and go.” She ducked instinctively as the blue dragon roared and launched another current of lightning their way. “And do it fast!”

She pulled Spike out the moment she found him. He had taken a hit, apparently, and passed out on a floating plank in the middle of all the fighting. The lightning dragon, occupied by trying to ground Slipclaw, had control over the fight from his perch on the ship. Ember only managed to bring Spike back to safety by swimming him to shore, using floating chunks of the ship as cover.

“What’s happening?” Spike whispered as she pulled him up against a smoothed rock.

“Something bad,” she said. “Go back to the camp as soon as you can and wait with Sandbiter. We’re retreating.” The word sat bitterly on her tongue as she said it, but it was the truth. Cowardly or not, she’d at least bring her dragons back to the Citadel. Alive.

Ember swerved around the lightning dragon’s assaults from both tail and breath. It became harder and harder to search for the others once his eyes were on her. He began firing lightning into the sea without a care, shocking his own soldiers who were scrambling to return to their ship.

Spears flew up from the deck. Those who were safe on their vessel grew bolder every moment and threw an increasing amount of nets and spears to entangle Ember and Slipclaw. The burn on her arm didn’t help, either. It was an unusual pain. Dragons lived in fire and lava, their scale and their bodies uniquely suited to the impossibly high temperatures of volcanic calderas. Suffering from a burn was not something Ember could ever imagine if it weren’t for her arm. She could feel scales flaking off the wound, and the skin beneath was unbelievably tender.

Was this what a burn felt like? She understood why ponies avoided the Core this pain was what they risked by walking through the hot air of the furnaces. She clutched it tightly as she dove down, faster than the nets could catch her. A few spears still struck, but she flew far enough away from the ship that the steel-tipped weapons bounced uselessly off her scales.

Fortunately for her, Slipclaw was there to earn himself enough glory for a few new names. Perhaps Flashburn or Blackroast, for he gave no mercy to the hedgehogs targeting them. His flame blanketed the deck as he dove, scorching hair and hide of the mammals and sending them desperately back to the sea. But as long as the lightning dragon remained, neither of them could turn the battle to a victory.

“For the Ash Citadel!” Ember heard a pitched voice cry out in the middle of the flames. Out of nowhere, Rosebud crawled out from under the deck. How she got there, Ember couldn’t begin to guess, but she had on her an array of weapons taken from the hogs: spears slung over her back and a roll of nets wrapped around her waist like a belt. Even some odd potions dangled from her shoulders on leather straps.

She attacked, wildly throwing potions and spears at the lightning dragon. The spears did nothing, though one ricocheted off his scale and struck down a hedgehog fleeing Slipclaw’s fire. The potions in glass balls, however, burst into clouds of smoke that seemed to stick to his scale, slowly turning them into flakes of stone.

The lightning dragon growled and lashed out with his tail, knocking Rosebud aside before she could unfurl the net around her waist. She took a tumble and fell off the side of the ship.

There was no time to waste. Ember dove, flapping harder than ever even though her wings screamed for relief and rest. She struck the sea hard enough to send floating debris back up onto the ship and then began whipping her tail back and forth like a snake.

Ponies, and most mammals, in fact, had an awkward way of paddling through the water with their ill-suited limbs. They were sluggish, fighting to stay somewhere between drowning and moving while they swam. But not dragons. Even the thickest adult had a powerful tail strong enough to rocket through the water.

Ember caught up fast, snatching Rosebud and her newfound weapons from the depths of the sea and propelling them quickly to the shore.

“Slipclaw!” she yelled once she felt the rocky land beneath her feet. “Have you found Flare?”

A simple twist in the air and flick of the tail from the red dragon, another simple signal dragons liked to use, gave her the answer she needed. It was a common sign, often used to greet distant dragons while flying, but it was just a general acknowledgement. If he had heard her and had nothing else to say, then Slipclaw must’ve had some idea of where Flare was.

It was just a matter of pinpointing him.

“Lord dragon!” one of the vultures, possibly Peck-Peck, cawed from a purchase along the coastal cliffside. Her gutturally accented Draconic was even worse than Marrow’s. “What do? What do?”

“If we die, you’re not getting your meals,” she snarled at the bird. But if there was something they could do to help, Ember couldn’t think of it. Grab weapons from the enemies? If they didn’t get annihilated by lightning, they’d only be able to carry one spear or net at a time, and neither seemed like they would slow down the lightning dragon for more than a second.

Find and carry Flare? Unless the vultures had another dozen hungry mouths ready to help, Ember couldn’t see them carrying a dragon, even one as young as Flare.

And then she looked down at Rosebud, lying unconsciously in her lap. About a dozen glass bulbs filled with the stone-potion still hung from Rosebud’s shoulders. Small, potent, and the only thing that seemed to even faze the lightning dragon. And all they needed to do was make the glass crack.

“Take these,” she quickly ripped the leather straps off Rosebud and handed the potions to the vulture, “and drop them on the lightning dragon. Do it high enough that the glass will break.”

“Drops rocks, annoy storm-lizard, yes?” Peck-Peck yapped, taking up the potions in its long, hooked talons.

“More or less,” Ember said. “Just don’t miss. Find Marrow and take the shot together, you’ll have a better chance.”

At the drop of his name, Marrow came out from behind a bush and grabbed up the other strap of potions.

“Will eat soon?” he asked.

“Yes!” Ember said, growing annoyed at how they could think of food at a time like this. “I’ll roast a hedgehog for you if I have to. Just get that lightning dragon to stop attacking us!”

Without another question, the two vultures spread their wide wings and began their eerie circling, as if the ship itself had become another dead animal in the desert. They flew high, higher than Slipclaw could manage in his exhausted state, and far higher than the lightning dragon could accurately aim.

His lightning blasts already missed Slipclaw, albeit narrowly. Against hollow-boned birds, he couldn’t even come close to electrocuting them. And then the potions dropped.

It was a beautiful sight. Ember could not tell who had hit and who had missed, but even with half the glass bulbs plopping into the sea, the other half did more than enough to stun the dragon. The scales on his face turned to stone, even forming stiff plates around his eyes.

He roared a bolt of lightning out and clawed at the rocks, ripping off his former scales and exposing the rosy skin and muscle on his face. Ember wished she could be on the ship at that moment, a spear in her claws to lodge straight into the dragon’s face. But he was already recovering, pulling stone shards from his face. Watching from the side would have to be enough.

Slipclaw dove the moment the potions hit their mark, but not before the wild shot of lightning struck him on the tail. He spun, fighting for control until he crashed against the water’s surface.

A dread silence fell over Ember, but just for a moment. The dragon recovered from the stone on his face after prying much of his petrified scales off, leaving behind some gruesome pinky flesh that stood out against his dark blue scales. Suddenly, Slipclaw broke out from the water, clutching Flare tightly in his claws.

The dragon saw them immediately and swung open his jaw. Ember moved, picking up a spear from Rosebud and shooting through the air. She had no experience with throwing spears, and at the range from the shore to the ship, she knew there was no chance she could hit. But if her burn was anything to go on, she knew how much a dragon relied on its scales. The spear flew from her claws, and she saw the moment in the dragon’s eyes when he noticed the weapon flying for his exposed face.

The lightning dragon flinched, sucking in its charged lightning and ducking behind a collapsed mast. The spear missed completely, landing on the opposite side of the ship. It never would have hit even if the dragon had stayed completely still.

Nevertheless, it did its job. Ember twisted in the air and swooped back to the shore, clutching Rosebud in her arms as she rejoined Slipclaw in their exhausted and desperate retreat.

Ember collapsed on a sleeping cot inside one of the tents when they returned to the abandoned camp. For once, she felt it was appropriate for vultures to follow her. Her wings were beyond sore, and the burn on her arm still throbbed painfully, no matter what position she laid in.

The only thing that gave her comfort was knowing that for the past hour, the lightning dragon had not followed them. Rosebud was safe. Spike had made it to the camp just before them, and though he was tired as well, he still managed to bring a bowl of water and fresh bandages for Ember.

“Thanks,” she whispered to him as he cleaned her arm. She heard the tinkling of her scales falling out from the injury. It made a sort of crunchy sound as the damaged scales crumbled apart. Apparently, lightning was the one thing dragons had no immunity against.

“Do you always sleep with it?” Spike looked at her, then at the Bloodstone Sceptre laying beside the cot. “It looks kind of uncomfortable.”

“It comes with the job,” she said weakly. “I just… I don’t know why it didn’t work this time. That dragon, it was like my orders meant nothing to him.”

“Maybe he just didn’t hear you?” Spike asked. “He can’t disobey what he can’t hear, right?”

Ember laughed, just a little. “Don’t you remember when you were summoned by the Sceptre? You were halfway across Equestria and you still couldn’t refuse my father’s command.”

“Yeah, but what about the other dragons? I know of a few adult dragons living in Equestria, but they didn’t come. And now that I think about it, no adults went to the Gauntlet of Fire.”

“Because the Bloodstone Sceptre has to go to a young dragon that represents the next generation. That’s the tradition. Trust me, if my father wanted a bunch of adult dragons there to fight over the Sceptre, they all would have shown up. And then the world would have been short of a few dozen dragons.”

“Short a few?”

“Because adults can’t fit into the caves for the Gauntlet of Fire. They would have had to fight to the death for it instead. That’s why we have the tradition of youth.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense.”

Spike quietly returned to Ember’s wound, wrapping up her arm in thick bandages, applying some kind of salve made from a desert plant. Ember recognised it. A lot of ponies brought it with them to the Ash Citadel in case they needed to treat burns. As the sticky sap coated her wound, a cold sensation started to wash over it.

“Ah, now that’s good,” she sighed.

“Glad you like it,” Spike said, “I’ll have to apply it a few more times today, to keep it fresh.” He stood up, rolled the remaining bandages together, and collected the trimmed plant stems.

“Hold on,” Ember reached out with her good arm. “Is it alright if you stayed for a moment? I just need someone to talk to right now.”

Spike sat down beside her without a second of hesitation. “Of course. That’s what friends are for.”

She smiled and then thanked him again. She couldn’t explain the feeling, but knowing he was there, and that she could close her eyes and trust that she’d wake to find the Sceptre still beside her, made her chest swell with bittersweet happiness. She wished she wasn’t in such a vulnerable position, but it was good to know where her friends stood.

They talked extensively about the lightning dragon, who he might've been, and who his sister, the Storm Host as she called herself, was as well. Spike explained the image she had seen under the palanquin.

The Storm King had used the very same potion to cast a spell that could send his voice and image across any distance, so long as there was another spell to receive the message. With weapons and ships from the old Storm Empire, Spike said he wasn’t surprised to see some remnants of its magic as well. They both wondered what Twilight would say if she had the chance to investigate the spell’s inner workings.

The stone potions that Rosebud found on the ship were used during the Storm King’s invasion of Equestria as well. Against a pony, a single glass ball of the mixture rapidly expanded to a cloudy gas covering the body and turning it all to stone. Ember had to wonder if it was just sheer size that protected the lightning dragon.

If the weapon had been used on her, would she be stuck waiting for some unicorn wizard to change her back?

“What do you plan on doing about it?” Spike finally asked when they seemed to run out of possible answers to their many questions.

“We need to know where they came from, first of all,” she answered, “and then strengthen the defences around the Citadel. The Storm Host, whoever she is, couldn’t have been clearer. They want their empire, and they’re willing to expand into our territory to get it.”